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COPYRIGHT NINETEEN THIRTEEN 




ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 






What Shakespeare 






Knew About 






Life Assurance 






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By 






JNO. I. D. BRISTOL 






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WRITTEN AT STRATFOR.D-OKAVON, lUNE, 1895 

REVISED, WITH ADDITIONS, NEW YORK CITY 

SEPTEMBEBv, 1913 




(ALL 


QUOTATIONS ARE SHAKESPEARE 


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What Shakespeare Knew 
About Life Assurance 



THE INTRODUCTION 



Efftilgent orb of intellectual light, whose 
"Sacred radiance" doth hold its "royal court" 
In all the thought "spangled starlight sheen" of mental 

space, 
And by whose "bright radiance and collateral light" 
All lesser stars do shine — Great Shakespeare, 
To Thee, we sing our "endless praise!" 

All whose emotions are swayed by the grander factors 
Of human existence look to Thee for thought crystals 
Of speech. Expression were "void and empty" 
Without Thee, and himian communication "dull of 
Tongue, and dwarfish." 

Vacuous was the mental world, and slow 
The progress of man, till Thy immortal analysis 
Of "his mental and his active parts" did show 
"In Nature's infinite book" 

"A combination and a form, indeed. 
Where every God did seem to set his seal, 
To give the world assurance of a man;" 
And from the countless survivals of all the unrecorded 

past 
Had Evolution created men of "thine age," 



O, Immortal Bard, but a thousandth part Hke Thee, 
The protective genius of "modest Assurance" would, 
"These three hundred years" agone, have been nurtured 
Into life and being by Thy appeals to Right, 
To "Love, Charity, Obedience and True Duty." 



^ 



THE MORTALITY TABLE 

Not in actuarial figtires, "heavy, dull and slow," 
That tell of deaths by number and the "brief span" 
Of "feverous life" allotted to mankind, O, Shakespeare, 
Was Thy Mortality Table inscribed, for Thou hast 
Made Macbeth, "with bated breath," to say: 

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow. 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day 
To the last syllable of recorded time. 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage 
And then is heard no more." 
In never ending beats the pendulimi of Eternity 
Doth swing. 

With every measured second the beating of an aching 
Heart doth cease; the strings of emotion in some 
"Wretched soul bruised with adversity " are rent in twain ; 
And some mind, "weary and old with service," 
Lays down its sceptre of thought upon Mentality's 
Vacant throne. 

Every passing minute its seven and sixty deaths 
Doth count; each dying day within its fold doth gather 
The "tide of tears" and grief for seven 
And ninety thousand who wake no more; 



And with each New Year's bell that measures 
The "glad and sorry seasons" and tolls for the 
Added drop from Time's shoreless ocean to 
Eternity's waste of waters, five and thirty millions in 
"Tender youth" and "homely age," the prattling child, 
The boy and maid, and men in prime and second 
Childhood, — all who make up great Shakespeare's Seven 
Ages — pass along the darkened road to the 
Silent tomb of the eternal Past, for 
"All that lives must die, 
Passing through Nature to Eternity." 

THE APPEAL OF ASSURANCE 

To the living millions, the happy to-morrows 
Ever remain. From these Assurance appeals, for 
A daily mite in liquidation of debts unpaid 
And duties unfulfilled, for that poor player, who, 
All too soon, has fretted his brief hour 
Upon the active stage of life and time, 
In the "wide and universal theatre" of this 
"Brave world." 

From out the long and fading vista of the Past, 
"Renowned Rome" that from her seven hills waved 
The "high sceptre" of "absolute power" o'er all 
"The infected world," rises as a dreamlike 
Vision of might and "royal majesty" before me. 

The "wild waves" of passion, tumult and rage 
Are playing upon the Roman mind as billows 
Upon the sea. The multitude but deign 
To hear Antony's tribute to him he feared, 
Honored and loved. Upon unwilling ears and 
"The empty, vast and wandering air," whose every 
" Contagious breath " is warlike with rebellious patriotism, 



These "fainting words" of heart-broken grief that 
"Whispers the o'erfraught heart," are falling: 

"O mighty Caesar! dost thou lie so low? 

Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 

Shrunk to this little measure? 

But yesterday the word of Caesar might 

Have stood against the world; and now lies he 
there, 

And none so poor to do him reverence." 
We, who plead the cause of Assurance and Protection, 
And by our life work create the competencies of 
Our "sad-hearted men, much overgone with care," 
Are the Mark Antonys of the present. 

The ninety and seven of every hundred toiling men 
Whose life endeavors for estate and "glorious fame" 
Have shrunk to naught, from neglect of 
"The way which promises Assurance," are 
The modem Caesars whom Failiu-e and "cruel Fate" 
Do conspire to assassinate. 

The venturesome marts of trade; the busy localities 
Of loom and shuttle; the mighty mechanisms 
That toy with metals and shape great 
Natiure's crude woods to forms of beauty; 

"The choice and master spirits of this age," 
Who, with 

"The singing masons building roofs of gold," 
Plan the towering domes of buildings massive, and 
The bridges' slender spans that o'erleap the rivers 
In their curves of beauty; the inventor's penetrating 
Mind, that of great 

"Jove's lightnings, the precursors 

O' the dreadful thunder claps," 
A plaything makes; and all Life's 
Bustling avenues of industry and courage creative. 



Form "the very mould and frame" of our modem Rome, 
That from Prosperity's uncountable " reverberate hills " 

of civilization, 
Doth wave her sceptre of Progress o'er all 
The enlightened world. 

How like Imperial Caesar doth many a "royal 
merchant" die! 
In life, the creator of "mighty enterprises" 
That girt the world in their hopeful arms; whose 
"Royal, good and gallant" ships, the white-winged 

shuttles in 
The earth-embracing loom of commerce, oscillate from 
Continent to continent; whose "honour'd name" has 

"grown so great" 
As to couple with mighty deeds financial; 
Who is 

"The foremost man of all this world" 
In life; in "the cruel pangs of death," 
But a "bleeding piece of earth." How many 
Vast estates like imto his have dwindled away 
'Neath Debt's importunate call, the hungry creditor, and 
' ' The law's delay !' ' How many vast enterprises sustained 
By the "natural magic" of his confidence-inspiring 
Name, have left but a heritage of loss and 
Failure, when the founder, like Mighty Caesar, 
Lies low in that forum of waning greatness 
That he alone could inspire and create! 

Unlike in nations old and staid, in all 
Columbia's wide domain bright-eyed Hope and 
Sturdy Enterprise go, hand in hand, toward the 
Goal of accomplishment that waits upon the undertaking. 
Failtire's grave contingencies doth hedge us 'round about. 
As "the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples 
Of a king;" and yet, we hopeful say: 

"If money go before, all ways do open lie." 



To Columbia's hopeful sons doth Assiu^ance offer 
"A liberal dower" without defrayment, and at usance 
So low that Usury's voice is hushed and still. 
To us of this 

"Brave new world, 

That has such people in't," 
She bequeaths her fostering shield 'gainst chance 
And loss, as a rich legacy from the 
Prosperous Past to assure the Contingent Future; to 
Save, perpetuate and place beyond Death's destroying 

touch. 
All the "conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils," of Hope 
And Energy's creations, that Wealth, Honor and Success 
Wait upon to call their own. 

When to those, this shield refusing, the "poor, 
mortal 
Living ghost" of Life's failure appears, with loss of 
"Bountiful fortune," and "Necessity's sharp pinch," 

"To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow 

An age of poverty," 
How oft a breaking heart, the health's impairment, 
And the wane of mental powers, associate! 

The producing years of life are past. The shadows 
Longer grow upon the declining hill of age; 
The life work lies a wreck at Memory's portal; 
And within Mind's crumbling temple Disappointment sits 
In her ashen robes to warn all brighter 
Thoughts away. Prostrate the mental ruin lies, and 
All that shared its shelter have perished in 
Its fall. The assuring Endowment and the Annuity 
That provides will never mature. 

"All is but toys; renown and grace is dead; 

The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 

Is left this vault to brag of." 

8 



THE DEATH OF THE UNINSURED 

A picture in the sombre tints of 
"The gloomy shade of death," 
And 

"As full of sorrows as the sea of sands," 

On Memory's canvas now is thrown. 
O'er all the dull hue of sadness blends 
And all that is, is seen thro' tears. 

*Tis the last hour of him who hath refused 
The pleadings that "the more better Assurance" makes. 
Another of Life's bankrupts, now, is struggling 
With "grim and comfortless despair," and crowding 

thoughts 
Of duties, deferred to unfulfillment, appall his sense of 

right. 
The final debt to home and offspring due, 
Is beyond the pale of payment now. 

On the easel of the Future, 
With 

"Doubtful thoughts, and rash embracing despair 
And shuddering fear," 

The dying flame of conscience glows, 
And with expiring gleam doth show 
The fear and care-burdened face of her. 
Of whom a thousand times and o'er. 
The dying man hath said: 

"She is mine own; 

And I as rich in having such a jewel, 

As twenty seas, if all their sands were pearl, 

The waters nectar, and the rocks piu^e gold." 

Within the portals of his dying thought 
But one truth doth have its being now, 
And every cell of brain doth feel: 



"The weariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nattire, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death." 
All is silence now, save beating hearts 
Of grief and woe. A daughter's maiden face 
Doth show the aging cares that e'en a 
Woman should not know; from youthful eyes 
Hope's brightest dreams have fled, and upon 
Its chosen soil hath beauty ceased to bud. 
A son, 

"In the very may-morn of his youth, 
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises," 
From labyrinth paths of progressive thought 
Must now retrace his springing steps. 
And backward move to realms of mediocrity, 
And the ghosts of misspent days that crowd 
From the graves of what might have been. 

Another mind is lost to the needs of 
This great world, and Progress waits again 
Her chosen one. 

Out bankrupt "dies and makes no sign," 
E'en to her whose greatest debtor he has been. 

"She looks upon his lips, and they are pale; 
She takes him by the hand, and that is cold; 
She whispers in his ears a heavy tale, 
As if they heard the woeful words she told; 
She lifts the coffer lids that close his eyes. 
Where, lo, two lamps, btunt out, in darkness 
lies." 

A* 

THE EPITAPH OF THE UNINSURED 

The epitaph of one in whose nature 
Assurance fotmd no chord responsive. 
We here indite, 

"For all his dependants 

Which labour'd after him:" 



10 



Noble he was in many things, 

"A sweet-faced man, a proper man, 
As one shall see in a stmimer's day;" 
But in all that makes Hfe wholly sweet 
And certain of accomplishment for dependent ones, 
Thoughtless he was and careless, as if 
In self absorbed and lost. 

"And dying so," his home he left without sustain- 
ment; 
And those within its pictured walls who loved 
Its beauties and were happy there, and felt 
No fear of want, as day by day thro' many years 
They added to its homelike wealth, knew it no longer, 
Save in memory. 

His wealth was coupled with an energy, 
And "guiding power" of financial masterhood. 
That could conceive and create Fortune's great results 
From minor things and Time's "potent circumstances;" 
But, when the master mind obliterate was. 
And in the dead brain creative ambition 
Had ceased to "sway our great designs," 
And others sought to do as he had done, 
'Twas found that all his Hfe accomplishments 
By Death must needs fade to traceless naught. 
And thus it was, that more of sorrow than 
Of joy lived with his memory, until his 
Name no more was spoken. 

The sorrows he bequeathed lived on. 
With "killing care" and depressing toil; 
And undevelopment and the ungratified 
Were woven and meshed into all the lives 
Of kith and kin who struggled after him. 
As legacies from one who thoughtless died. 

So fade the works of men; 
Back to the earth again, all things decay. 



II 



THE AGENT 

Of him with "heart as far from fraud as 
Heaven from^ earth," who is most perfect in expounding 
The warp and woof that Assurance "more busy 
Than the laboring spider, weaves" through all 
The lives of men, I must with Duncan say: 
"In his commendation I am fed; 
It is a banquet to me," 
For he it is who saves the home, and 
With actuarial exactitude creates the science that 
Doth perpetuate the sustaining competencies of life. 

He it is, who. 
With Accumulation's magic might, unravels the tangled 
Knots that hold estates in jeopardy, and protects 
The widow from poverty and "the moody and 
Dull melancholy" of despair. 

He it is, who 
Offers Fortune's "noble benefits" to all, in payments 
Easy as the years run on, and with full 
Quittance made when we are called upon to pass 
"The melancholy flood 

With that grim ferryman which poets write of 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night." 

He it is, who, 
With "reasons as plentiful as blackberries," doth induce 
The compoundings of the unmissed savings of 
Life's producing years, when 

"True hope is swift, and flies with swallows' wings," 
Into competencies for weak, infirm and unproductive 
"Old age, that ill layer up of beauty." 

He it is, who. 
When caution's voice is still, and the prosperous 
Present dulls the keen edge of Adversity's evil days 
For all the Future's ever-changing years, 

12 



Admonishes to give thought and heed to Catesby's words: 
'"Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, 
When men are unprepared and look not for it." 
He it is, who. 
By driving away the haunting ghost of Poverty that 
Forever pleads in Saving's stinted whisper of fear, 
Brings to Home's sacred precincts the marbles that teem 
With lines of living loveliness, pictures that glow 
In color and in beauty, and 

"books. 
From whence doth spring the true Promethean 
fire." 
He it is, who, 
To the prosperous, as the "black, suspicious, threatening 

cloud" 
Of adversity rises in the bright skies of Venture, 
Recalls Macbeth's stern caution: 

"I'll make assurance double sure, 
And take a bond of fate; 
That I may tell pale-hearted Fear it lies, 
And sleep in spite of thunder." 
He it is, who, 
By a modern science evolved from the limbeck 
Of our better natures, creates, from the savings of 
Life's brief years, an interest that is the partner 
Of Forever. 

He it is, who. 
With "some sweet, oblivious antidote," removes the deep 
Lines from the face of illness that "the 
Heavy thought of Care" has graven there. 
And by soft'ning the dread pillow of disease, adds 
Life's legacy of to-morrows to our brief "bank and 
Shoal of Time." 

He it is, who 
Provides an asset that cannot be stolen or lost 
When e'en the "sure and firm-set earth" is swept away 



13 



NOV 28 1913 

By Adversity's "envious floods," and "what's past 
And what's to come is strew'd with husks 
And formless ruin." 

He it is, who. 
With Education's smiling cheer, supplants the vile dress 
Of mediocrity that is the "blur to youth" 
With "the intertissued robe of gold and pearl" 
Proclaiming the enlightened mind that finds 

"Tongues in trees, books in the nmning brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in everything." 
He it is, who. 
In communion with Man's higher faculties, doth average 
The fortunes of men, efface the footprints of crime 
Upon Progression's pathway through the Nations, and 
Hold the torch by whose "most radiant, exquisite and 

unmatchable" 
Light, Evolution "with slow but stately pace," creates 
A nobler, grander and more perfect type of man. 




14 



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Andrew H. Kellogg Company 

141 East 2Sth Street 

New York 



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